


The Sweetest and Most Important Sound

by musegaarid



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Blow Jobs, First Time, Intercrural Sex, Love Is Still A Choice, M/M, Porn With Plot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 10:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musegaarid/pseuds/musegaarid
Summary: Victor is proud of the Names that grace his skin: permanent reminders of all the people he has ever loved. But Yuuri covers his Names, refusing to let Victor get even the smallest glimpse. What is he hiding?





	The Sweetest and Most Important Sound

When it comes to their bodies, figure skaters are not shy. They spend years in locker rooms with other skaters, and wear skin-tight spangly spandex in front of hundreds of people. They’re usually fine with casual nudity.

This is why Victor is so confused when Yuuri eventually slinks into the hot water of the _onsen_ wearing a long-sleeved shirt, running pants, and an embarrassed expression. 

At first Victor thinks it might be a cultural thing. Japan is so different from Russia, after all, and many of its customs are strange to him. But none of the other men in the baths are wearing clothes, so that’s probably not it. Then he wonders if Yuuri is still self-conscious about his weight. But he lost those extra pounds from the off-season, and the clothes he’s wearing are wet and tight, clinging to Yuuri’s form like a second skin. If Yuuri is sensitive about the slight roundness of his belly, wouldn’t he try to hide it more? Those pants don’t hide much of anything, as far as Victor can tell.

“Yuuri?” he asks, puzzled. “I thought it was considered rude to wear clothes in the hot spring.” Yuuri’s father had been very clear about the protocol, in fact.

“Yes,” Yuuri agrees, running a hand through his already messy hair and decidedly not looking at Victor. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry if it offends you, but you did kinda order me to come…”

He had. Not only was Yuuri visibly exhausted after so many hours of practice, he had begun to favor his left leg a bit, so Victor decided that the heat and some stretching would do him good. More importantly, Yuuri has been avoiding Victor ever since the Hot Springs on Ice competition. Victor had hoped that by spending some personal time together this evening, he could finally encourage Yuuri to open up a bit. Victor wants to get to know this contradictory man who can be so fun and charming when he’s drunk and so beautifully sincere when he’s skating, but so nervous and self-deprecating the rest of the time. 

Victor sighs, sinking lower in the water. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Makkachin’s Name running along his right bicep. It makes him smile. Out of habit, he checks his left side for the Names of his parents and then lifts his knee out of the water to look at the tiny ‘Yakov Feltsman’ written there: all the Names of people he has loved in some form or other. Maybe he doesn’t have as many Names as some people, or even most people, but he’s very happy with the ones he does have. He blinks and looks up at Yuuri. Is that what Yuuri is hiding? His Names? Victor thinks back over the last few weeks and realizes he’s never actually seen Yuuri’s bare skin; Yuuri wears full-length pajamas to bed and changes in the locker room’s toilet stall… 

Victor decides not to push it. He wants to gain Yuuri’s trust, not frighten him away, so he lets it go for now and shrugs. 

“I just want you to relax, Yuuri. If you can relax better in clothing, then I don’t mind.”

Yuuri glances up, finally meeting Victor’s eyes. His shoulders, which had been in a hunched, defensive position near his ears, begin to sink down to their normal position in obvious relief. 

“Okay…”

And as the discussion turns to Yuuri’s progress that day and plans for tomorrow, Victor wonders what his student is hiding. 

Or rather, who.

***

They’re all at dinner celebrating Phichit’s win at the Cup of China when the subject comes up. 

“Sooooo, Phichit…” drawls Christophe as he plays with the straw from his second cocktail. “Who’s your celebrity Name?” 

Yuuri laughs in response and Victor turns to look at him, surprised. With the competition over for the moment and after having enjoyed a beer or two, Yuuri actually looks relaxed for a change: more like how he had looked when Victor first met him in Sochi.

“I should think that would be obvious,” Yuuri answers for his friend. Phichit grins, unabashed. 

“Obvious?” asks Chris, “how so?”

“Mr. Cup of China over here just did two routines to ‘The King and the Skater’ and you can’t figure it out?”

Victor knows that Yuuri and Phichit lived in each other’s pockets for quite a while. They’d been roommates, rinkmates, friends, and perhaps even lovers. He’s still unsure on that point. Yuuri must have seen Phichit’s Names sometime. Victor suddenly wonders if the reverse is true. Does Yuuri hide his Names from everyone or just him?

“Paitoon Anuwatvimol,” Phichit sighs dramatically. “The king of my heart. So dreamy. So very, very dreamy.”

Guang-Hong giggles. Leo snaps a picture of Phichit’s smitten expression and promptly uploads it to Instagram.

“Who’s yours?” Phichit asks Christophe in return, and Victor snorts.

“Everyone in the world knows that, probably.”

A slow smile curls across Christophe’s face. “You’re just jealous, Victor, because you know that George Michael is so much _sexier_ than that Russian guy you have.”

Victor gasps in mock horror. “You take that back! George Michael never took first place at Eurovision.” 

There is something about the combination of swirling hormones at puberty that causes most young teens to obsess over some celebrity or other. When this turns to sincere love, that celebrity’s Name appears forever memorialized on their skin. Victor had been no different in this regard and Dima Bilan’s Name swoops gracefully below his right shoulder blade. Dima had sparked his first feelings of romantic and sexual love, but of course the crush hadn’t lasted long. Considering what other Names he might have had and where, Victor feels he’s actually been quite fortunate. Imagine all those poor people whose well-intentioned adoration means a lifetime of seeing Justin Bieber’s Name in the mirror!

Victor can see Yuuri watching this exchange with an amused curve to his lips. It reminds Victor of his own curiosity and he hopes the question works its way around the table. He can help with that, he supposes.

“Your turn, Leo,” he purrs. Leo jumps, more in shock that Victor Nikiforov is talking to him, Victor thinks, than he is worried about his revelation. It’s Victor’s least favorite part about being a famous figure skater. He likes to inspire and mentor younger skaters, but doesn’t want them to worship him.

Leo glances around the table and finally mumbles, “Lupe Salazar…”

“Oh!” Phichit exclaims. “That actress from ‘Starship B-Boyz?’ She wore the head tentacle thingies?” He wiggles his fingers around his head in demonstration.

Christophe raises an eyebrow. “Leo. I’m not sure if I’m more impressed by your kinkiness or horrified that you’re such a nerd.”

Flushing, Leo tries to defend himself. “She was just… really hot, okay?”

Guang-Hong, looking her up on Google image search, nods in fervent agreement. He taps the screen of his phone a few times and shows an attractive and scantily-clad green woman to the rest of the table. “Man, I wish this show had come to China! …Is she rap battling the leader of an alien world here?”

“Who do you have?” Leo asks quickly, clearly trying to change the subject.

Looking resigned, as if he knew it’d be his turn eventually, Guang-Hong says, “Babymetal.”

Yuuri’s face scrunches up adorably. “The heavy metal band with the three girls in it?”

“Yes,” sighs Guang-Hong.

“But which…?”

“All of them.” 

Everyone laughs. 

“It’s always the straight ones,” Chris complains. At this, all eyes slide to Georgi who has been sitting the whole evening just staring at his plate. At the silence he looks up.

“Anya,” he declares. 

Victor wants to roll his eyes -- he’s had the whole sordid story from Mila -- but he politely refrains.

Leo looks confused. “But she’s not…”

“Only Anya!”

“Oookay…”

Victor’s heart flutters when he realizes that only Yuuri is left. He’s looking forward to getting to know a little bit more about his protégé. But before he can say anything, he sees Yuuri shoot a panicked look at Phichit, and the Thai skater is suddenly standing. 

“All right,” Phichit says brightly, “my turn to buy drinks. C’mon Yuuri, help me carry them.”

In an instant, Phichit has dragged Yuuri away from the table, and by the time they return some fifteen minutes later, the conversation has changed completely. Phichit enters the argument about the upcoming NHK Trophy enthusiastically, but Victor notices that Yuuri is tense and closed off again. He sighs, wondering if he’ll ever earn Yuuri’s trust.

***

As usual, Yuuri rearranges Victor’s world when he is least expecting it and least able to deal with it. It’s never intentional, but Victor is left shaken again.

After Yuuri beats his personal best in the Rostelecom Cup’s short program, Victor is overcome with pride. Needing to express his joy to the world, he lifts Yuuri’s skate to his lips in an extravagant gesture. 

It’s then that the leg of Yuuri's costume rides up slightly, revealing bare skin between his pant leg and boot. Only the merest sliver of Yuuri’s shin is exposed but it’s enough to make out the curl of lettering. 

‘Victor Nikiforov’

Victor freezes, the skate obscuring his features. Yuuri has his Name. Yuuri has his _Name_. But he doesn’t have the time now to process this, so he plasters a huge smile on his face and begins to cheer for Yurio who has just taken the ice. He’ll think about what it means later.

Unfortunately, with the bad news from Yuuri’s sister and the frantic rush to get back to Japan, later is much, much later.

Is isn’t until he’s in his bed at Yu-topia that the delayed shock of everything sets in. Between the international travel, lack of food and sleep, and the fear, worry, and adrenalin, he’s left shaking under the covers, trying to remember the last time he had to sleep without either Makkachin in bed with him or Yuuri in the next bed over. Now that he knows that Makkachin is stable and resting at the vet’s office, he’s writhing with guilt at having left Yuuri to skate alone. He knows this is Yuuri’s last chance to get into this year’s Grand Prix Final. He knows Yuuri doesn’t handle pressure well and needs his support. He knows that Yuuri loves him. Or at least he did once. Is it just an embarrassing remnant of a celebrity crush that Yuuri wants to forget, or could it mean more?

Victor watches Yuuri’s free skate alone in his room and sobs when he just barely squeaks into the Grand Prix Finals. When Yuuri gets home, Victor gathers him into his arms and never wants to let go. 

***

Victor thinks they’ve finally settled things between them. He is going to return next season as a competitor, while remaining Yuuri’s coach. It will be a lot of work but it’s the only way they can share the ice again, and in their hearts that is what they both want. Yuuri will be happier if he knows he hasn’t ‘taken Victor from the sport’ or ‘hogged him all to himself’ or whatever other nonsense people are saying. And Victor would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the competition, especially now that his head is spinning with the inspiration he’d lacked a year ago. 

It’s the day after Yuuri won silver at the GPF and they are packing their things to go back to Japan. Yuuri looks vaguely ill, but Victor knows he’s not hungover. He’d refused to drink a single drop at the banquet last night, much to everyone’s dismay. 

“Victor,” he murmurs, sitting on the edge of his unmade bed. “Can… can I talk to you a minute?”

Instantly wary, Victor nods and sits on his own bed, facing Yuuri. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Yuuri won’t meet his eyes and is playing with the ring around his finger. Neither of these are good signs. 

“I need to… I should… um… it’s about our engagement.”

Victor’s heart seizes.

“I know it was all a joke, but Phichit thought you were serious, and was asking me, since I didn’t win gold, if everything was off, and… and… well, it’s been really fun to pretend the last few days, but with you returning to competition and everything, we should probably tell the truth before it gets out of hand.” 

“Pretend?” chokes Victor.

That makes Yuuri look up. “Well, yes. You don’t really want…”

“Would you please stop telling me what you think I want.” It’s not said in anger, but Victor’s sadness and frustration bleed through the syllables. 

The room is silent for a moment. Yuuri is clearly struggling with his thoughts but seems to come to a decision. “Victor,” he says softly. “I’ve been keeping a secret from you. I’m really sorry. But if you knew, you’d… well, you wouldn’t want to marry me, that’s for sure. You might not even want to talk to me.”

Victor’s hair has fallen into his eyes, but he does nothing to push it back. “If this is about my Name, then I already know.”

“What?!” Yuuri’s enormous brown eyes somehow go even wider behind his glasses. “How?”

“I saw,” he confesses. “I didn’t mean to look; I was trying to respect your privacy. But I don’t mind.”

“You… you don’t?”

“Of course not.” Victor smiles faintly. He knows from the internet that there are quite a few people out there who wear his Name, but he doesn’t want to think of Yuuri like some random fan. He hopes that it means more. “I’m flattered,” he teases.

This is the wrong thing to say. Yuuri starts to curl in on himself in shame, squeezing his eyes shut.

Victor can’t take this anymore. He leaps across the gap between their beds and gently cups Yuuri’s cheek. “No, no, please… Please. Look at me.” He pulls his hand away to start tugging frantically at his shirt buttons. 

Though he hasn’t managed to get all of the buttons undone, Victor parts his shirt, exposing his upper chest. “Yuuri. Look at me.” 

Emblazoned across Victor’s heart, is Yuuri’s Name. Victor doesn’t know the exact moment that it appeared on his skin but he knows it has been ready to bloom for a long time and is in just the right spot.

Yuuri’s hand trembles as he brings it to Victor’s chest. His touch is soft against the letters. “My… Name? You…” 

“I love you, Yuuri. I adore you. That’s what it means.” Victor refuses to be unclear on this point. They’ve had enough miscommunication.

Yuuri’s lip twitches. “I love you more.”

Delighted with this new competitive playfulness, Victor grins. “Prove it.”

He expects a laugh, hopes for a kiss. What he gets is Yuuri nervously reaching for the hem of his own long-sleeved t-shirt. It’s confusing. After a long moment of stillness, Yuuri moves to pull off his shirt, and Victor catches sight of his Name low on Yuuri’s side.

But that’s not… his leg… Victor blinks. He’s never even _heard_ of someone having two Names for the same person. 

As more of Yuuri’s torso is exposed, Victor gasps. Skimming Yuuri’s ribs, across his chest and shoulders, down his arms, and on his stomach is Victor’s Name, repeated over and over, a dozen times or more. Victor wonders if he should be terrified by this -- if he should run. It’s obsessive and weird. 

Then again, Yuuri has never acted like Victor’s other squealing fans. Yuuri has never tried to manipulate or change him to match whatever fantasy exists in his head. He has only ever wanted Victor to be himself. He may actually be the _only_ person who wants Victor to be himself: not just the elegant gold medalist, but also the goofy, impulsive, and blunt dog lover.

The collar of Yuuri’s shirt catches on the edge of his glasses, but he frees himself with a sharp tug, and Victor can now see that his cheeks are stained a pale pink. In a defensive gesture, he moves to cover his exposed skin with his arms, but Victor is quicker and catches his wrists gently, moving them down to Yuuri’s sides so he can really look.

“How?” he breathes.

Yuuri shrugs. “I kept finding new parts of you to love.”

Victor doesn’t know what expression his face is making, but his body feels like it has just melted into a puddle of goo.

“So…” he chooses a Name that runs along Yuuri’s collarbone, and touches it gently. “That one?”

“Your passion for skating.”

Victor smiles. His hand glides down the center of Yuuri’s chest. “This one?”

“How hard you work.”

“And here?”

Yuuri looks down to see where Victor is pointing and gives an embarrassed chuckle. “Oh, that one’s not you.”

Victor’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “It says ‘Victor.’”

“My dog,” Yuuri explains. “When I found out you had adopted a poodle, I… got one too?”

Victor is beaming. That might be the most adorable thing he’s ever heard. Without thinking, he leans forward to kiss puppy Victor’s Name, but Yuuri sucks in a sharp breath, and the mood in the room shifts. 

They touch each other often. They even kissed once, although Victor is sure that Yuuri considered that more an instance of excessive Russian affection than a romantic gesture. But Yuuri’s indrawn breath… This is what crosses the line into intimacy.

Victor looks up to see Yuuri gazing down at him. There’s love in his eyes, of course, but also a simmering heat that Victor hasn’t seen since last year’s GPF banquet. Heart pounding, he strokes Yuuri’s stomach with his thumb, delighting in the subtle shiver it engenders. Victor’s eyes are pleading and Yuuri gives a shaky nod in response. Permission asked and received. Victor’s lips move the final fraction of an inch and press lightly against the smooth skin of Yuuri’s abdomen. He begins lightly kissing each Name in turn, following a path from Yuuri’s side to his bellybutton. 

A few marks are visible above the fabric of Yuuri’s jeans, hinting at letters below, so Victor hooks his index fingers in Yuuri’s waistband and lightly tugs to see his Name expressed again. A fine trail of dark hair runs vertically through the Name and vanishes into Yuuri’s briefs. 

“This one?” he demands.

Yuuri’s face floods scarlet. “You were, um, naked.”

“Mmm, so it’s not just my passion and hard work that you love,” teases Victor.

“Oh, no I…” 

Victor starts tracing the lines of his Name with his tongue. 

“OH!” Yuuri leans back on the bed, bracing himself on his hands, and unconsciously giving Victor easier access to continue. 

When Victor finishes the final letter with a flourish, Yuuri is panting. 

“Am I on your legs, too?” 

Yuuri stammers out an affirmative.

“May I see?” In response, Yuuri reaches for the button on his jeans, but Victor stops his hand. “Let me.”

After loosening Yuuri’s jeans, he taps his side, silently asking him to stand. Instead, Yuuri gracefully arches his back, lifting his hips off the bed, and Victor slides the pants down. From there, the weight of the denim is enough to let the jeans fall to the floor. Yuuri is left in nothing but his black briefs, visibly half-hard. Victor has to bite his lip at the sight. His Names highlight the muscles of Yuuri’s thighs and glide down his calves. He sees the mark he’d first seen in Moscow and many others. He has has never felt particularly territorial with other partners, but the way his Name envelops Yuuri’s body feels clingy, possessive. 

Glancing down those luxuriously long legs, a heretofore unknown streak of jealousy swells as Victor touches the spot above Yuuri’s knee where Phichit’s Name appears. 

Yuuri gives him a slow smile that tells Victor he knows exactly what he’s thinking and doesn’t mind at all. “Not Eros,” he murmurs. “Philia.” Brotherly love.

Oh, well, that’s okay then. “But these others…” Victor runs his fingers lightly up and down Yuuri’s leg, touching his Names, “are Eros?”

Yuuri nods. “Um, definitely.”

Victor undoes the last two buttons of his shirt, strips it off, and lets it drop on top of Yuuri’s jeans. He’s made a decision.

“I would like to make you feel good right now, Yuuri. Can I?”

Yuuri looks stunned, like all his fantasies have come true at once. He's breathing shallowly. “I… ah… don’t have much experience with this kind of thing, but yes?”

Smiling gently, Victor leans in for a kiss. “Just tell me if I do anything you don’t like,” he murmurs against Yuuri’s lips. “I’ll stop at once.”

Yuuri moans quietly in response and pulls Victor closer. Though they’ve never quite done this before, they’ve skated long hours together and the push and pull feels familiar. Knowing when to move, where to match, how their bodies work in rhythm together… this they know well. 

While his mouth is happily occupied, Victor reaches down to remove Yuuri’s underwear, careful not to trap his erection in the elastic. Once he has slid them down far enough, Yuuri kicks them the rest of the way off, lying exposed and vulnerable, but also strong and heart-stoppingly beautiful. Victor breaks off the kiss just to look until Yuuri’s embarrassment starts to once again dust his cheeks pink. Fortunately, Victor knows a good remedy for self-consciousness and starts licking and gently nibbling his way down Yuuri’s torso. 

He stops along the way at Yuuri’s nipple, running his tongue along the darker flesh there, but hears no hitch of breath that would indicate any particular enjoyment. He moves on, finding the catch he had been listening for as he reaches the hollow of Yuuri’s hipbone. Spending some time there yields a multitude of quiet gasps, moans, and sighs which delight Victor immensely. However, there’s also a delicious uncut cock nestled in some neatly trimmed pubic hair that has been demanding his attention for a while, so he turns his head and exhales gently onto it. Yuuri’s spine instantly arches off the bed and he whines; Victor is amazed at how reactive he is.

“Can I…?” Victor breathes.

“Yes, yes, anything, touch me, please just…”

Victor doesn’t know if there’s a word in English to convey the noise Yuuri makes when he swallows his cock, but he thinks there really should be. Perhaps he should start a petition. 

Dragging his lips across the taut skin, Victor enjoys the weight of Yuuri’s cock on his tongue. He laps at the tip before engulfing the whole again, setting a rhythm and breaking it again and again. At its best, sex is always a surprise and Victor does love surprising people. His hands roam Yuuri’s skin, caressing and teasing, but he brings one hand down to capture Yuuri’s sack. This move receives a very satisfying groan, so Victor squeezes a bit. 

“Victor,” warns Yuuri. “I’m… oh god, I’m about to…” His fingers twist in the sheets as he tries to find purchase.

Victor hums around Yuuri’s dick, extending one finger slowly along his perineum. Even the suggestion that he might be about to touch Yuuri’s entrance seems to be enough. Yuuri comes with a cry and Victor is happy to swallow, carefully licking him clean until a hand at his shoulder lets him know that it’s too much and he pulls off. 

Yuuri looks red-faced and wrecked, his hair even messier than before. He’s sweaty and beautiful and Victor smiles at him. After he catches his breath, Yuuri’s lips curl into a satisfied grin. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“What is that look for?” 

“Got my first blow job from Victor Nikiforov.”

“Really?” laughs Victor. “Well, I guess dreams can come true. Even those super embarrassing ones from when you’re fourteen and…”

Yuuri swats at him lightly, cheeks still tinged with color. “Shut up.”

Delighted, Victor sits back on his heels. He’d done a photo shoot like this once, bare-chested and on display. He was told that his unmarked chest was sexy, that girls could imagine their own Names there, maybe even write them in. The photographer wasn’t wrong; that particular poster had sold very well and Victor wonders if Yuuri had a copy -- or if Yuuri was already wearing his Name by then. But Victor’s chest is no longer unmarked and the man who claimed his love is finally naked and in his bed.

He’s hard and disheveled, but Yuuri is just looking at him with those eyes… “Would you like to return the favor?” he asks, finally.

Yuuri blinks. “Yes! I mean, I don’t really know how. But if you’ll teach me, I’d like to, to do that.”

Oh. Victor considers the offer. He hadn’t realized that Yuuri was quite so inexperienced. 

“Why don’t I show you the bunny hop before we get to the double axel, hmm? Here, I have an idea.” 

He stands, kicking off his shoes and quickly shucking his trousers and shorts. Freed from its restraints, his cock stands proudly erect. Crawling into the center of the bed, Victor lays face up like an offering. He’s not shy -- he’s a world-class athlete and knows he’s attractive -- but he’s not sure how to feel in the face of Yuuri’s saucer eyes.

“Touch me,” he whispers. “Anywhere and any way you want. I don’t like to be tickled and I don’t like to have my ears licked, but you can try anything else you want. I’ll tell you if it’s good.”

Yuuri doesn’t seem to know what to do with this idea. His eyes scan Victor’s body, lingering on his cock, but when he tentatively reaches out, it’s for his Name on Victor’s chest. His touch is almost too soft, on the edge of teasing, and Victor squirms. He takes hold of Yuuri’s wrist and presses a little more firmly. Yuuri looks into his eyes and back at the Name, and Victor lets his hand fall again. 

“A bit lower?” Victor suggests after a moment and Yuuri complies, brushing against Victor’s nipple. “Ah! Yes, like that. Do it again. A little harder.” 

As Yuuri begins his explorations in earnest, Victor discovers that Yuuri’s focus and dedication is not exclusive to figure skating. He pinches, twists, licks, and sucks until Victor is afraid he’ll come from this alone and demands that Yuuri move on. He maps Victor’s body inch by inch with fingers and tongue, examining his few Names carefully. Victor has had lovers, but they don’t exist in the context of his body. He had never before understood the difference between love and affection, and his mostly blank skin is proof of that. People used to think it meant he was cold and incapable of love. As it turns out, he just hadn’t met the person who had so much that he could share. Between the two of them, he thinks, it balances out.

After Victor has been very systematically taken apart and is seconds from begging, Yuuri looks up, blushing but determined. “Um, Victor? I saw… well, I was on this website one night and it said, uh…”

“Anything, yes. Whatever you like, _solnishko_.”

Yuuri nods and leans over the bed, reaching for his packed toiletries. Unzipping the small bag, he pulls out a bottle and sits back up. “It’s the oil I use for my hair in performance,” he explains. “I think it will help with… you know.”

Victor blinks in astonishment. “Is that what you want? It’s a bit… advanced, no?”

If Yuuri was blushing a moment ago, he’s now incandescent. “OH! No, not… um, no. We don’t have… and anyway… just, here.” He puts a generous amount of oil in his palm and finally reaches for Victor’s neglected cock.

Victor hisses in a breath and arches his neck in sheer pleasure. Yuuri’s grip is tentative at first but grows more confident after a minute as he strokes the firm shaft. When he pulls away, Victor can’t help the soft keening sound he makes, but Yuuri just smiles and rubs some oil on his inner thighs. Victor’s brain whites out at the implication.

“Let’s try this,” says Yuuri, tossing the bottle away and laying on his side facing away from Victor. Reaching back, he pulls the Russian skater into position behind him with Victor’s arm over his waist and their ankles intertwined. From this angle Victor can now see the expanse of Yuuri’s back. He’s not paying a great deal of attention, but he thinks he can make out the Names of Yuuri’s parents and sister, as well as his friend from the Ice Castle, but they are surrounded by more instances of his own Name.

Yuuri parts his legs slightly. “Now you, uh…”

But Victor has the idea, and he slides his cock into the slippery space between Yuuri’s glorious thighs. It feels so good and he sighs in contentment.

Victor tends not to make a lot of noise during sex. He communicates in breaths instead. It had sorely disappointed some of his past lovers, but Yuuri doesn’t seem to mind. He strokes Victor’s hip in encouragement and squeezes his thighs together. Victor inhales sharply at the sensation and tightens his grip on Yuuri’s waist. Using that arm and their intertwined legs for leverage, he begins pumping his hips, sliding into the silky warmth. As turned on as he had been earlier, it doesn’t take long until he can feel an unmistakable tension building in his muscles. Yuuri’s little grunts of effort make for better encouragement than the cheers of thousands and soon Victor is sucking in short desperate breaths, unable to exhale. He hovers on the precipice for one perfect moment then tips over into blessed release, panting into Yuuri’s hair.

“Was that good?” a tentative voice asks after a minute. 

Victor pulls Yuuri impossibly tighter. “Magnificent, _zaichonok_.” He cranes his head to plant a kiss on Yuuri’s cheek and then freezes. There’s a… a smudge on the top of Yuuri’s shoulder and it’s moving, shifting, swirling in an effort to become something more. Victor can only watch in amazement as it clarifies into: ‘Victor Nikiforov.’

“Yuuri,” he whispers.

“Mmm?”

“You have a new Name.” Victor reverently touches the spot with his lips. Never in his life has he seen a Name come in before.

Yuuri huffs out a laugh. “Guess I found something else to love about you.”

Victor buries his face in Yuuri’s neck and murmurs against his skin, “I guess you did.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Remember that a person's name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language."  
> -Dale Carnegie
> 
>    
>  _solnishko_ \- sunshine  
>  _zaichonok_ \- bunny
> 
> I dunno, the internet told me these were good nicknames for boyfriends. XD


End file.
